


You're A Pervert, Harry Potter

by crazyparakiss



Series: H/D Lactation [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Draco Malfoy is a Brat, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Humor, Lactation, Lactation Kink, M/M, Male Lactation, Mpreg, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-18
Updated: 2019-02-18
Packaged: 2019-10-30 16:50:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17832425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crazyparakiss/pseuds/crazyparakiss
Summary: Draco is being more obnoxious than usual.





	You're A Pervert, Harry Potter

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts), [brightowl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/brightowl/gifts).



> I was told a continuation needed to happen, an Mpreg continuation, and so here's a short, fun sequel. I've been busy writing for RL projects and will be MIA for a bit, but I wanted to have a little bit of fun before I had to take an absence (one you might not notice because procrastination is my game). 
> 
> Not beta'd because it's for fun, not a fest. Enjoy my rawness hahaha 
> 
> Also decided to give hermione18802 a gift fic, so here it is, dear! Hope you're as excited to write for HarryDracoMpreg as I am excited to read what you come up with.
> 
> And also for BrightOwl who said the lactation fic needed a sequel. Thanks for planting the idea!

  
  


Draco is being more obnoxious than usual. Harry’s been coming home with his wand out—at the ready for a _Protego_ —more and more as the weeks wear on. 

 

It’s been like this since the potion. An incident Harry tries not to linger on for too long. Not because he doesn’t enjoy the memories. No. More because he dwells on them, cock aching over the recollection—Draco’s hot, tender nipple on his tongue, the slippery wet hole of Draco’s arse that gripped his cock with greedy hunger— _ nothing _ sates Harry when he falls into such thoughts. 

 

He got written up a few mornings prior for an extended lunch hour. One he didn’t request. He hadn’t the time. Harry had been too wound up over the way milk had dripped off of his partner’s lip. Down his sharp chin and it reminded him of Draco. 

 

Harry had spent a good hour in the loo—coming and coming and coming. His hand brutal on his own cock as he tried to stave off the want. A want that kept his cock angry red and unsatisfied as he continuously pulled himself off. 

 

Nothing helped then. Nothing helps now.   

 

He’s still hard and it’s been  _ days _ . 

 

Days that drag like years because Draco’s been in a snit. A brat at the best of times and a vile wanker at the worst of them, Draco is Harry’s weakness. A weakness that makes him question his sanity if he’s being fucking honest. 

 

Especially now, when he’s come through the door to a snarling, snotty Draco. His face is splotchy red, wet with tears and his nose is raw from rubbing it with the back of his sleeve. He’s clearly been crying, but Harry knows—from experience—to pretend he cannot tell Draco’s been crying. 

 

“You all right?” Is what Harry figures will be the safest question. Harry enjoys his bollocks and knows Draco’s not beneath trying to castrate him in his sleep. So, he tries to be as safe as possible during these volatile times.  

 

“Fucking wonderful,” Draco hisses in response.  _ Not fine then, _ but Harry remains silent. Letting Draco take his time in telling Harry what’s wrong. 

 

In the air, Harry feels a shift and his wand twirls in his fingers—erecting a shield in time to deflect a nasty hex. One that bounces off the invisible wall before him and shatters the hideous vase Draco’s mother gave them as a housewarming present. “Look at that,” Harry comments with mildness in his voice. “You’ve gone and broke my favourite gift from your mum.” 

 

“Fuck the vase,” Draco seethes. Stomping closer. “You’ve ruined my fucking life with your perversions.” 

 

Harry doesn’t ask  _ which  _ perversions Draco’s referring to. Every morning he’s calling Harry a pervert for one thing or another. He’d once made the mistake of telling Draco he’d liked dogs and Draco had taken it as some sort of lewd liking. Tormenting Harry for months about it, until he’d decided Harry had some other horrid perversion and forgot about it. Harry’s always so grateful that Draco’s good with that pretty mouth because something needs to counterbalance the vile shit that rolls off his tongue. Draco’s still ranting—something Harry’s tuned out as he watches those pretty, wet lips move with a graceful rage. 

 

He moves towards the kitchen. Draco shouting behind him as he goes. But Harry needs a drink if he’s going to listen to Draco bitch and not have sex after. 

 

“You shitty orphan,” Draco hisses once he’s come to a stop in front of where Harry’s standing. He’s picking through the candy dish, looking for something sweet and salty to eat before he pops the top off of his beer. 

 

“Really, luv?” Harry simpers in a mocking voice. “Surely you’ve got better insults than that.” 

 

“I’ve got more if you want them, you insipient swine,” Draco bites at him. Pressing into his space, and Harry wants to shove him against the refrigerator. Fuck him until he can’t form coherent thoughts and those shitty words dry up beneath his moans. 

 

Fuck. His cock is straining in his trousers from the want of it. He’s so wrapped up in imaginings that he misses Draco’s words. Harry only realises Draco’s waiting for an answer when the kitchen falls silent. 

 

“What?” he asks. 

 

Usually, Draco spits more hatred at him when he doesn’t listen. Today, however, he crumples. Face cracking into an expression that makes Harry remember a small, frightened, eleven-year-old Draco. The Draco from that time they travelled through the Forbidden Forest with only a cowardly dog and lanterns as their guides. 

 

He cups Draco’s face. Forcing him to look up when he tries to draw out of Harry’s gentle hold. “What?” He repeats, softer and more urgent. Harry himself is frightened of hearing words that could be their unravelling. 

 

Something that he lives in a constant fear of...the end of him and Draco. A voice that sounds like Ron’s filters through him, muttering,  _ wankers like him never change, Harry.  _ Another, that sounds suspiciously of Hermione, lectures,  _ he’s going to break your heart, Harry, you always knew he would.  _

 

“I’m pregnant,” Draco whispers. His thin chest heaves. Draco’s face appears ashen—fear apparent in the way he trembles—and Harry remembers this face. It’s the same face he wore during the trial that decided if he’d walk free or forfeit his life on a rock at sea. 

 

For a moment, Harry stands there—too shocked to do more than stare. Then he shakes himself, dropping his hands away from Draco’s face when he goes to his knees.  _ Pregnant. Pregnant. Pregnant. _ The word plays through him. The mantra of a word he never before hoped to hear. 

 

Choosing Draco had meant there would never be a child born to his name. Not that Harry had cared. He had Teddy, after all, and he was content to play uncle for however long Draco would have him. Yet, underneath the surface—deep within himself—Harry had always wanted a baby. A little Potter to fill the void of all the Potters stolen from him by Voldemort’s hate. And here it is, beneath the beautiful, soft flesh of Draco’s white belly. 

 

He had lifted Draco’s shirt without realising and is now staring at the stomach he’s spent years biting, licking, coming against. Now he looks at the skin with awe and buries his face against Draco. His eyes are damp—how long has it been since he’s cried? Does it matter? Does he care? Not really. 

 

“I love you,” he whispers against Draco’s soft skin. “Fuck, I love you so much.” 

 

“Me or your baby?” Draco tries to tease but his voice is a cracked, fragile sound. 

 

“You, more than anything,” Harry replies. Then he kisses at the still flat flesh of Draco’s lower abdomen, “This, too, because it’s a piece of you that’s full of me.” 

 

“Ever the romantic, aren’t you, Potter?” 

 

_ Only for you, _ he thinks but never says. “Can I fuck you?” Is what he asks instead. 

 

Draco allows him the honour, and Harry’s breath catches when he removes Draco’s clothing. Unwrapping him like a gift he knows is coming, but one that is still shocking and wonderful to behold. Draco’s chest is swollen like it had been weeks ago—less large, but still different than Draco’s usual. Harry sucks in sharply, mouth watering at the way Draco’s nipples are calling to his tongue. 

 

“Do you want a taste?” Draco husks and Harry’s cock is unbearably hard in a second. His nostrils flare when Draco squeezes at his slightly engorged breast causing milk to dribbles from the nipple. He keens, a sound that nearly has Harry coming in his pants. “Potter,” he begs, spreading slim, white thighs. “I’m so wet for you.” 

 

And who could deny such an invitation? 

 

Harry opens his own trousers. Hissing when cold air meets the too hot, too hard flesh of his cock. A cock he slides against the wet hole of Draco’s needy body. “I missed you,” Draco whines. 

 

“Me?” Harry asks with a taunting tone, “Or this?” He presses into Draco, biting his lip at the feel of slick, tight heat that grips him in ways nothing else has or can. 

 

“Both,” Draco gasps. Arching beneath Harry, and Harry bends his head to Draco’s chest. Sucking hard on one of his swollen nipples. Harry cants his hips at the sweet taste. He’s wanted it so badly, for so long, that he comes too soon. Like a clumsy teen, and he moves off of Draco—to apologise—but long fingers grip the back of his head. “Keep sucking, I’m so close,” Draco begs. Working himself on Harry’s oversensitive, softening cock. “So close,” he cries. 

 

Harry reaches between them, pulling on Draco’s swollen cock, as he leans his head back down to suck on Draco’s other nipple. When he drags his teeth against the hardened tip of Draco’s nipple hot come splatters between them. Coating their stomachs, and Harry’s cock twitches valiantly at the feel of it on his skin. He releases Draco’s nipple with a wet pop. Nuzzling into the soft skin of his chest. 

 

“You like sucking my tits,” Draco says—once his breathing is back under control. It sounds accusatory. Draco’s usual tone. 

 

Harry laughs, “You like it, too.”

 

“That’ll be a problem when I have to feed your child,” Draco sounds worried. 

 

“It’s called milk replacement, if you’re that bothered, Draco,” Harry replies as he moves away from Draco’s skin. He’s in desperate need of a shower now. 

 

“I’m not giving my child subpar powders,” Draco appears horrified at the thought. Like every other all natural mother Harry’s met. 

 

“Hermione’s children have done just fine with formula,” Harry reminds. Then kisses Draco silent when he looks like he’s gearing up for a rant. “Or, I could manually milk you. For bottle use.” He grins at Draco, seeing the intrigue that lights Draco’s grey eyes. 

 

“You can do that?” Draco seems unsure. 

 

“I’d gladly do that.” Harry reaches out, running a finger over Draco’s tender, swollen nipple. “I bet it would be fun.” A smile stretches his mouth wide before he whispers, “We could spend the next few months practising.” 

 

“You’re a fucking pervert, Potter.” 

 

_ Yeah, but only for you, Draco Malfoy.  _

  
  



End file.
